


What A Difference Dinner Makes

by Gia467



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Kisses, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 09:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18008354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia467/pseuds/Gia467
Summary: Miguel invites Samantha to meet his parents.A sort of "what could have been" AU that focuses on their friendship after the tournament.





	What A Difference Dinner Makes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InvisibleObserver13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvisibleObserver13/gifts).



 

What A Difference Dinner Makes 

Nervous is an understatement. Nervous is getting blood drawn when you're only a little kid. Nervous is waiting for your final exam scores when you know half your time was spent in front of a TV. Nervous is an extremely poor description for what he's feeling.

Having Sam over for dinner was a monumental moment in their still-freshly renewed friendship.

“Miggy, when is this girl getting here?” His mother fluffs her hair. “I want to make a good impression… ” She’s half joking, trying to get him to lighten up. “Oh come on.”

“Estar seguro tu habitación está limpiar!” He can hear Rosa laughing from her spot in the kitchen, and Carmen is quick to remind him that no, there will be no girls in his room tonight, clean or not.

He sighs, becoming more stressed out by the minute. “Yes, I promise.”

No less than five minutes later, there’s three polite knocks at the apartment door, and Miguel storms from the bathroom to his room sans shirt, slightly frantic.

_“Not yet not yet not yet!”_

Rosa mutters to herself as he practically slams the door.

“Lo conseguiré…”

Once everything is in place, the food is cooked, and Miguel had stopped raiding his closet long enough to pick something, the four of them settle at the table.

Miguel looks to Sam, then his mother, who seemed to be getting along just fine, despite his previous anxiety about Sam not taking well to his mother for some reason or another. Sam had even spoken a few words of Spanish to her, something that he wasn’t aware of her knowing how to do.

“Hablas español en casa, Samantha?”

“No, no, sólo practico… or fun. I’m learning bit by bit.”

Rosa gives her –and Miguel– an approving look. “Bueno, bien por ti.”

“Gracias, um… “

“Rosa."

Sam smiles, trying to commit to name to memory. She looks towards Carmen again. “Thank you so much for having me, Ms. Diaz. This is lovely.”

“My pleasure, honey. You’re welcome here anytime you want, okay?”

Rosa makes another comment, one about how it’s better to have a polite girl in the house rather than the usual group of rowdy boys, getting up to god knows what.

“Estaba empezando a preocuparme.” She chuckles, muttering half under her breath but enough for Miguel to hear, his face getting a bit red.

Sam just laughs, leaning close to his ear. “What did she say?”

“It’s nothing, really.” He was grateful, to her knowledge that she wasn’t at all fluent in Spanish, and that his Yaya spoke rather quickly anyway. “She said it’s nice to have you over.”

“Ella es bonita, ¿verdad?”

Carmen nods, trying to keep the humor out of her voice. “Te dije que hacían buena pareja.”

“No, no, ella es sólo una amiga…” Miguel waves his hands in earnest.

Rosa tsks at Miguel’s frustration, and Sam’s giggling. “Sé cual es el problema aquí.” She shrugs, animatedly while Miguel groans into his hands, trying to not to just crawl under the floorboards.

“Mamá…”

“Bien, ya basta! Por favor…” 

Sam’s not put off at all, but rather charmed by the Diaz family dynamic. Nobody’s arguing about the food his Yaya had cooked or complaining why they can’t see the TV well enough, none of Miguel’s relatives are the subject of debate, and most importantly they were all in one place. Most of the time her own family would be eating dinner separately. With Anthony in the living room, her father in his office, her mother in the kitchen, and Sam admittedly, in her own bedroom there was rarely a time they ate dinner together anymore; it was just easier that way sometimes. Despite that she genuinely tried not to make a habit of it, it just tended to be one of those things that happens of its own accord, even when you try your best not to do it.

It was nice to be sitting here with them in their quiet, cozy kitchen. It was cute to see Miguel speak Spanish (something she rarely got to see at school or any place else), and it was cute how his mother doted on him and how she called him Miggy with that loving inflection in her voice, even when he thought it was embarrassing.

Once dinner is done and Sam swears she’s eaten her body weight in food she can’t pronounce very well, she offers to clear the table.

“Please, let me.”

“Oh Sam you’re our guest, please. Miggy will help me with these, it’s alright.”

“I insist, after the meal I’ve had it’s only fair.” She makes her rounds at the small table, collecting the plates in an impressive manner she had learned working in one of those ritzy black-tie places in North Hills.

Before Miguel can even stand, she takes his plate away and stacks it along with the others on her arm. When she takes his dish away, the brief contact she makes with his hand feels not entirely accidental.

“Come on, you’ll be on rinsing duty.”

For the unteenth time that night, Miguel’s face gets red. Getting up from his seat he promptly follows her into the kitchen, glasses in hand.

“You really don’t have to do these you know, I was gonna do them after you left.”

“It’s alright, really. I don’t mind.” She starts filling the sink with warm, soapy water and carefully places the dishes in the rapidly filling water.

Together the two of them stand side by side, Samantha washing and Miguel rinsing, stacking them on the drying plate by the sink, all the while sneaking quick glances in her direction. He still can’t help it, he can’t not look at her when she’s close to him.

“Hey…”

He turns at the sound of her voice and is met with her finger to his nose, suds lingering where she’s touched. “Boop.”

He blinks and she giggles at his attempts to look at his own nose. She flicks more water at him, little droplets hitting his grey shirt.

“Oh, very nice. My best t-shirt.”

He dips his hand into the sink, collecting a decent amount suds in the palm of his hand before hovering briefly above her head and smooshing it down, all in her hair.

“Oh my god, you did not just… oh that’s how you wanna play, huh?”

More suds, in his hair this time, only with slightly more water that once again drips down to his shirt where a dark, splotchy pattern is starting to become apparent.

In the living room, Carmen and Rosa watch the two teenagers make a soapy mess of the kitchen counters and the linoleum floor, but make zero attempt to speak up.

Rosa points to where Miguel has squirted dish soap on the counter, and where Sam is currently trying to scoop it up and rub it into his hair. At this point, both Miguel and Sam are likely much cleaner than the dinner pots that are still sitting on the stove.

Her eyes are affectionate, not at all bothered in the least. “Otro desastre que tendré que limpiar.”

* * *

 Miguel’s apartment block is quiet tonight, and when he opens the door to walk Sam to her car, they’re greeted by the breeze.

“Well, this was nice, we should do this again sometime.” Her hair is slightly wet, and the front of his shirt is decently soaked.

“Mhmm.” He nods, becoming shy again in the quietness of outside, and the coldness on his shirt makes him shiver a little.

“Next time, you can come to my house and meet my bratty little brother and my parents. How about that?” She gingerly places a hand on his upper arm, thumb grazing the slightly tensed bicep, and he feels a pleasant jitteriness rise in his chest, like going over a big loop on a rollercoaster ride.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great, it’s a date.”

“A not-a-date.” He corrects.

“Maybe, but I reserve the right to change my mind about it later.” She looks at him with intent, right in his eyes with that same adorable smile on her face, and his world turns upside down again. “Hey Miguel?”

“Yeah?”

She leans in a little closer. “Would it be okay if I gave you a goodbye, not-a-kiss?”

He blinks. Swallows. Nods.

He closes his eyes again, feeling such a deja vu. It’s much of the same sweetness as before, and when he opens his eyes she’s still smiling, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, goodnight.”

He’s still not good with words. “Uh, yeah… goodnight.”  He waves.

She gets in her car and starts the engine. Rolling down the window, she leans her head out. “By the way, tell your Yaya that I couldn’t agree more.”

He blinks, quicker. Swallows. Nods. Realization hits him slowly.

“Uh, sure…” He’s smiling like an idiot, he knows it. He just can’t really stop himself.

Miguel waves her goodbye again, watching her car disappear down the road. He looks around himself, at the empty block and dark sky before heading back inside where he knows his mother is waiting for him.


End file.
